


It's Not So Black And White

by Nishloo



Category: X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: Character Death, F/M, General Angst, M/M, Major Character Injury, Night Terrors, Slightly triggering, Some Fluff, X-men trying to be X-men, father/son angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-05
Updated: 2018-09-07
Packaged: 2019-04-18 19:44:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14220420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nishloo/pseuds/Nishloo
Summary: Peter Maximoff is an already complicated kid - boy turned x-men, a plethora of night terrors, and the inability to look his father in the eyes.When can a guy get a break?or Peter is an angsty teen with some major PTSD who can't tell Erik he's his son.





	1. Chapter 1

‘Oh god - oh god-’

The snapping of bone reverberated the area, piercing the once quiet of the steady air and following it was a yell of complete and utter agony, one so filled with distraught emotion that it shook the earth with it’s reveal.  
An agonizing wail of a boy, a boy who was absolutely ( terrified ) - who was completely out of his mind and element, cool demenor stipped from him at the absolute force of his cracking bones. 

Peter Maximoff, fastest man alive, was nothing more than a ragdoll in the presence of a god, the gods hand gripping onto his hair. His fingers were intertwined in silver locks as he held the whimper boy in place, a disgusted growl rumbling from the pits of being, such disgust at seeing what a waste the poor boy was. His powers were phenomenal, enough to surprise En Sabah Nur, to leave him breathless for agonizing seconds before he was able to pin his sight on Peter and hold him at bay.

Peter’s leg was a strangled mess with blood oozing from his wound and down his leg, underneath his tight suit. He could feel the easy trickle of sticky blood down his leg, searing with pain. His leg was twisted in such an odd angle, too far that any leg could bend on its own, and he knew right then and there that it was completely useless to him. He couldn’t look at it, he ( couldn’t ), he wouldn’t know what to do and would most likely begin yelling once more, a curdling noise from deep within him that revealed what a terrified child he was. 

He could feel everything.  
The blood flowing beneath his skin and pumping so quickly in his veins as his body desperately tried to realize what had happened to him, muscles constraining and tensing so much that it hurt him. Blood that desperately tried to pump through punctured veins, trying to push themselves by splinters of bone that had stuck themselves so deeply into his outer layer of skin, protruding ever so slightly out of the black suit he wore. He could feel the strain of his muscles at every movement, splinters digging themselves deep within his fleshed muscles in his leg which only made things worse for him. He bone wails with pain, aching so much if he tried to move, a simple readjustment or strain of his leg and- ( oh god ) he could ( feel it ), he could feel ( everything ) that gave him so much discomfort. Every splintered bone that crunched and broke, that stuck themselves further into his leg piercing fleshed muscle and skin, and such a cold shock that would shiver up his spine and leave him gasping for air that he couldn’t get into his lungs fast enough. 

Everything was happening so fast- too fast, but yet too slow. Slow enough that he could see particles of dust and grime flow around him, that he could feel every move his hair in the gods hair or strands that were touched by the breeze. 

His arm was even a mess of unwanted pain. En Sabah Nur had twisted it so easily, turning it so quickly that Peter knew there would be bruising around his joints from the quick and unnatural movement. It was throbbing with every second in time with his heart and hung by his side, unmoving - he was too afraid that if he did move it, it would shoot with pain just as much as his leg did. 

He was afraid.

The air around him grew eerily quiet and he could feel the gods breath on the back of his neck, warm and uncomfortable as it set all the hairs on his body on edge. He could feel his uneasy presence of power, of absolute strength and Peter’s heart drops. He chuckles in Peter’s ear, his grip on Peter’s hair tightening as he pulls his head back causing the boy to let out a strained whine of surprise and pain as his uninjured hand moves up to grasp at his hair.  
His head follows the movement of the pull and he seethes, a sharp inhale of breath as he scrunches his eyes. 

Oh god, his voice is a shaking whisper in his mind, someone help me. 

He’s pleading and his heart is picking up with speed - everything felt so wrong, so very ( wrong ). He was being held like he was so light, so insignificant and feeble as a weak child. He felt like ( nothing ).  
He wasn’t a fighter, he didn’t choose to go into fights with fists raised, no he was a ( runner ) - he ran away from threats, not towards them. 

He was so pathetic. 

'Peter,' a voice echoes in his mind and he begins to panic until he realizes it’s the professor he hears, someone familiar, someone he can trust. 

'Everything will be alright, everything-' 

And just like that, Charles is gone with nothing but a broken sentence and a small gasp that leaves Peter’s mind reeling with how quickly Charles presence disappeared.

Which only means- his eyes flicker to the god holding him, who looks to be so deep in thought with milky shaded eyes. 

They were going to lose- oh god, they were going to die, Charles couldn’t do anything, oh god no-

Peter hears the movement of approaching footsteps and he strains against the others hold in his hair to see who was approaching. He was hoping to see someone who was approaching to help him, someone that could get the god's hand out of hair- to get him away from him. His hope falls apart all at once as he sees one of En Sabah Nur’s horsemen, one of his little mutant servants approaching them. The wind tussles her hair, long and dark, and her weapon glowed with such a bright color as she continued towards them. Peter hadn’t bothered to learn her name, he didn’t know he would be struggling against the gods grip as she approaches with her sword drawn and her gaze set on the pathetic silver haired boy. 

'Charles,' he pleads within his mind, 'Raven, Scott- someone!'

His eyes flicker to a figure floating in the distance, surrounded by millions of floating metal objects that flow around him as easily as the wind. Erik meets his gaze, his eyes look sad and he turns his gaze away - Peter’s heart lurches and he feels like he’s going to vomit. 

Erik- no, his ( father ) didn’t care about him, didn't care enough about him to save him. In the back of his mind Peter knows that Erik has no knowledge of their relation but Peter wants him to save him so much, wants him to be the father that Peter has always dreamed about. 

“End him.”

And his eyes snap back to the situation at hand, wide and terrified as En Sabah Nur pulls his hair back against to reveal his bare neck to his servant of evil. 

“No-no-”

Peter’s voice is hoarse and desperate, quiet but ringing in his ears. He was sure tears were already brimming in his eyes under his goggles, flowing without any control from Peter. All he could do was look to the sky and listen to the strainingly slow footsteps that belonged to his demise. 

His vision blurs, the sword moves, Peter is on the ground. 

He lands on his hands and knees - hard. He releases a gurgled noise as his leg hits the ground with him and he struggles to scramble away from the god and his lackey. He can feel freedom, freedom from the gods hand that was gripping his hair so tightly, holding him like there was nothing to him.  
But he soon realizes that he isn’t moving, he hasn’t moved an inch from where he fell. His movements are sluggishly slow for how fast the speedster usually is and he feels such a hot pain through his body, 

He thinks the pain is blossoming from his leg or arm but it’s not- no, it’s coming from his ( throat ). His neck is warm, hot, wet. Hesitant hands reach for his neck and his body begins to seize and shake violently as he collapses to his side. Deep red stains his hands and he wails once again, a deep and gutteral noise that comes out gurgled from the blood that is coursing down his throat. He can hear the world freeze and take a breath around him. Someone yells for him- was that Raven? Objects hit the ground with force and surprise, objects of metal collapsing through the air and to the ground with large thumps to the ground. Screeching metal hitting metal is heard and Peter can make out Eriks form in the sky, his expression that of shock because he thought that someone would save Peter, thought that Peter would be saved, that a child would ( not ) be killed. Erik’s expression grows hard and neutral and metal once again raises into the sky and instead of flowing around him like water, they shoot towards En Sabah Nur, at the girl with the bright sword that had Peter’s blood staining her. 

Someone is at Peter’s side when his body begins to compulse and shake, moving so rapidly that a mixture of saliva and blood flows from his mouth - followed by an acid bile, vomit.  
Someone has their hands on his face, moving up to his head and into his hair and- and- 

He wails so loudly, choking and sputtering because he thinks that the god has him once again, has his hands gripping Peter’s hair. His frantic eyes expect to see the gods sickly face, evil expression towering above him but instead it’s Raven by his side that’s holding his head up because she doesn't know what to do, she has no idea what to do. 

The others move passed them, he can see red light fly by them as laser pierce the so called blue god and the crackle of lightning from above shakes the earth as it rains down to strike the god. 

His body stops, his eyes roll and he sees his family - mother, sisters, even Erik who stood beside them with a warm smile. Peter regrets not telling Erik who he was before he died. 

Then he sees nothing.

Then everything at once and he’s ( awake ) - his body bolts and he scrambles in the covers of his bed that tangle around him like snakes. He falls from where he was sleeping on his bed, body connecting with the floor with so much force that it takes his breath from him. He scrambles and doesn’t realize he’s wailing, sobbing, body shaking as he moves and moves from ( something ) in the dark surprise of his room until Charles is there. His voice is everywhere and he’s obviously both confused and surprised by the distress that Peter was projecting so avidly. Peter doesn’t calm down until Charles is there in person, Erik behind him, Hank, Raven- all there trying to calm him ( again ).  
Again because this was the sixth time in the past two weeks that Peter would seize in his sleep, would cry uncontrollable in Erik’s arms with Raven’s hand on his shoulder, Charles speaking to him calmly in his mind and Hank bringing him water. He’s had the same horrific nightmare so much - it’s haunted him ever since it happened, getting more graphic, violent, and so much worse each time. 

Sometimes his friends would be there; Scott, Ororo, Kurt, Jean, Jubilee- they would surround him and stay with him in his room until the early morning light from the rising sun flushed through the window of his room, cascading over their sleeping bodies that lay together around Peter’s room. 

And tonight his father and the other adults were there for his source of comfort. Charles was almost always the first to hear his nightmares, finding himself inside them by accident and living them out with Peter until he could wake him. Sometimes the same thing would happen with Jean and she would show up at his door with tears staining her cheeks, eyes red from crying and she would walk the distance from the door to the bed where Peter sat and would envelop him in a hug. 

Erik touches his hair and Peter screams, screams so loudly that he surprises everyone in the room to silence. He shoves himself from Erik, scrambling before getting to his feet - he runs. He can hear them call for him and he doesn't make it far from his room with a large clunky boot still on his leg. Hank had moved from having Peter in a cast to having him in a boot to help rehabilitate Peter’s ability to walk and so his muscles and bones could heal correctly and efficiently. He trips over the large thing, clumsy on his feet as he falls hard on the flooring in his hall - his leg couldn’t keep up with him and his body slides easily along the flooring. 

He stays there - his body was shaking again and he could feel his tears falling freely down his cheeks, staining them. His body shakes, shivering as small sobs pass his chapped lips.  
They’re there again, this time Raven is the one who collects Peter into her lap, Erik stands a little far off with uncertainty in his eyes. Peter refuses to meet his gaze and feels so much shame and embarrassment all at once at his outburst. 

“It’s not your fault, he was just frightened.” Charles says, voice sympathetics as he looks up to Erik, hand moving out to brush against Erik’s arm. 

“He screamed when I touched him, Charles.” Erik replies, voice strained as he looks from Charles to Peter, eyes soft and hurt to see the boy so broken in Raven’s arms. 

He stays like that until he stops crying, Raven cradling him with him holding tightly onto her arms. When he finally calms himself down enough to rationalize that he’s awake and not in the nightmare land he was in moments before, Hank leads him down the medbay in silence. Neither of them truly know what to say to each other, Hank quiet and awkward and Peter still shaken and embarrassed, the same feelings he felt every time he recovered from his nightmares. 

He has Peter lay on one of the beds while Hank checks on his leg, readjusting the boot he wore and making sure there were no new injuries to his leg from falling. 

“Everything looks okay.” Hanks says, flashing a somewhat sheepishly awkward smile. He pats Peter’s shoulder, gives him an awkward hug, a lollipop and sends Peter off shuffling through the halls with a strawberry flavored candy in his mouth. 

Peter continues to wander the halls until his leg begins to ache, until the lollipop he had began to disintegrate in his mouth. He realizes then that he can’t go back to his room, can’t go back under his covers and relive the same thing over again. He shivers at the thought and instead goes further into the school where he knows his friends rooms are. 

FIrst he goes to Ororo’s who gives him such a sympathetic look, then to Kurt’s who was already awake with experiencing night terrors of his own, Jubilee’s who was slightly hard to wake at first, Jean’s who already knew of his nightmares and followed along with the group, and then finally to Scott’s who was slightly irritated at waking up so late in the night but goes along anyway. They all sit around one of the many sitting rooms in the mansion and huddle on a couch in front of the tv with some sort of action movie playing that Scott put on. 

Peter doesn’t talk much at first, instead stays silent with steadying breaths as he tries to think of everything but what happened. 

“We’re all here for you, Peter.” Jean speaks up quietly, hand touching his shoulder. 

“I know, I know it’s just- ugh, I’m so damn pathetic. Here I am, wasting everyone's time because of a damn nightmare.” Peter exclaims, a bitter smile on his face as he laughs at himself, absentmindedly wiping away fresh tears from his eyes. 

“You’re not pathetic Peter, you’re great! You’re an x-man!” Kurt says from where he was sitting on the floor beside Jubilee, his usual hopeful expression plastered on his face. 

“And you have a team here to help you, oh mighty x-man.” Ororo chimes in from beside him with a playful sort of smile perking her lips. 

Peter only nods, wipes away more stray tears and goes back to his playful and cocky self. His friends stay to comfort him in any way that they can. Scott goes to ruffle Peter’s hair after making a joke and Peter flinches, just a small buffer in their cheerful night. Peter saw Apocalypse again in that moment but is almost immediately soothed by Jeans coursing emotions in his mind, Ororo shoots Scott and look and Peter pretends not to notice. 

After the third action movie Scoot put in, they’re all fast asleep. Kurt is sprawled on the floor with a blanket strangling his body like a snake. Jubilee has half of her body on the couch and the other on the floor, out cold and oddly comfortable. Jean is curled up at the arm of the couch. Ororo is to Peter’s right and her legs are on Peter’s lap as she sleeps. Scott is to his right, head tilted back slightly and Peter’s head is on his shoulder comfortably. 

They stay like this even after the sunlight cascades over them through the curtains and the professor makes sure that no one intrudes on them. Even Erik and Raven make sure that no one goes into the sitting room, staying near it’s entrance in the early morning while sharing a pot of dark coffee. 

Erik’s eyes are on the sleeping speedster as he stands in the entryway of the sitting room, bland mug of dark coffee in his cold hands as he watches him with an odd pang of sadness fixed with fondness. Raven comes up beside him, blue body bright and contrasting against Erik’s grey shirt and dark sweatpants. 

“He looks up to you.” She says gesturing to where Peter sleep and Erik gives a small, bitter laugh. 

“He screamed at the sight of me, Raven.” His voice is strained and worn down with stress, an obvious sign that he did not sleep after he and the others discovered Peter hours before. He couldn’t find the ability to sleep when his mind was filled with worries of how the boy was doing, how he was feeling, if he was going to have another nightmare when he finally fell asleep. But he was certain that he was the last person that Peter had wanted to see after giving such a powerful reaction to Erik’s presence and touch. 

Raven gives a small sigh, he wasn't wrong but he was taking it the wrong way. “He didn’t yell because of you Erik, and you know that.” She says as she looks to Peter as well, and then to Erik. She could see startling similarities between the two was beginning to pick out how they were related. She was tempted to tell Erik about Peter but she knew that it was Peter’s choice when to tell Erik about his lineage and she wasn’t going to intrude on that. 

Erik is silent afterwards, his eyes moving from Raven and back to Peter one last time before he turns on his heel and moves away, away from the sitting room and kitchen and in the opposite direction of where they were.

“I believe I am going to sleep.” Both he and Raven know that he’s lying, he wasn’t going to sleep and would most likely go back to his room to brood over Peter and the nightmares but Raven doesn’t stop him and he disappears around the corner. 

They were right - he places himself in his room where he finishes his coffee and spends the next hour staring at his floor, his mind a jumbled mess until Charles wakes and ushers him into his office to play a round of chess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no peter's not dead
> 
> this was originally written as a small solo but I've decided to turn it into a multi-chapter fic :)


	2. Chapter 2

It’s been a total of three days, 13 hours, 24 minutes, and 33 seconds since Peter had his last and by far the worst nightmare. The anxious quickster had started to keep count of how many times he’s had the horrifying nightmares since the second time it plagued his young mind. 

He should be happy that nightmares no longer plague his fragile mind, that he could curl within his cover in his room without having to think of waking up at different times in the night with worried friends crowded around him. Except, he hasn’t felt calm a single moment since his last nightmare. 

He was put on edge so constantly, he hasn’t had a single restful night since then. He’s forced himself to do something very unhealthy, something that Charles would look at with a disappointed stare and patronizing voice- something that Erik wouldn’t like. Peter feels shame as the thought passes his mind, that his father would be disappointed in him. 

Peter has only slept a total of 10 hours over the course of three days, a total of 72 hours which only included 10 hours used beneficially towards Peter’s need of sleep. 

It’s the only way to keep himself from having to relive the nightmare- to keep him away from ( his ) terrifying presence, hand gripping tightly to his silver colored hair, warm breath hot on his neck as his hearty laugh mocks Peter and-

And Peter brings himself back to reality, breath ragged, his chest rattling and shaking at the mental image that his brain had created, an exact replica of the beastly nightmares that he’s trying so hard to escape. He sits alone in his room on the edge of his bed, his hands are freezing and shaking as they sit on his lap, his chest is heaving for breath and his head is light and fuzzy. 

His body feels tired, his eyelids are heavy and flutter open and closed consistently. Time on the clock beside his bed go by quickly and he realizes that this is another moment where his body is trying to force him to sleep, trying to lull him into a sweet darkness that can engulf him, recharge him.  
But it also dangles the unknown above his head, out of reach but menacing enough to wake Peter up after his few minute nap. And he’s up and moving once again, his body groans at the movement. 

He’s standing from his seat on the bed and starts busying himself, does anything to keep his body from moving closer and closer to the comfort of his bed, the blankets that feel like silk against his aching skin, pillow resembling a cloud in comfort. 

“Snap out of it, Maximoff.” He says to himself as he shakes his head, unkempt silver hair ruffling at the movement. He hesitates momentarily before running his hand through his silver locks, pushing it back and flattened any unattended curls or knots. He hasn’t done a thing to his hair for so long now, he has had the physical or mental motivation to anymore. He’s just always so exhausted, tired, completely and utterly drained until he gets some kinds of adrenaline into his system. 

A run? Candy? Coffee? 

Why not all three?

And with that, Peter collects wrinkled clothing from the floor of his room, changes into them rather slowly and is out of his room within a few moments. It’s slightly early in the morning, around 9am so he knows that there are students and professors wandering the halls by now, but not too many. When there are small groups of students walking the halls, Peter has to fake a smile on chapped lips, straightening his posture because ( there isn’t anything wrong with him ) - he’s completely okay, he feels wonderful and perky as always. 

With added speed to his footfalls, he’s in one of the many kitchens in no time. It’s a rather small one with an island, there are a few counters that surround the small fridge. Sitting atop the counter is an older looking microwave, Peter can see the age in it by the white paint chipping and peeling, and there’s a dark coffee machine beside it. Those are not the only objects relaxing in the kitchen, hidden away by the fridge with a mug held in his hands and body leaning against the counter is none other than Erik Lehnsherr- his father. 

Peter is caught like a deer in headlights, eyes widened and mouth slightly agape while Erik looks to him with an expression of confusion, tinted with curiosity attuned to Peter’s reaction to seeing him. 

“Good morning, Peter.” He says, his voice doesn’t hold any factor of grogginess meaning that he must have been awake for hours already. “Are you okay?” He stops leaning on the counter, setting the steaming grey mug of black coffee on the island before taking a few steps towards the young adult. 

The movement and relaxing tone from Erik is what breaks Peter from his frozen stage, his eyes moving downcast to the white tiling of the kitchen floor and his mouth shuts quickly. And he stays like this for a few moments, then his mouth opens again into stutter of sounds, realizing that Erik had asked him a question. 

“Yeah! Yes, yep! I’m good- fine, I’m fine.” And just like that, Peter plasters a smile onto his face and looks to Erik, posture fixed and straight to appear normal. He moves quickly behind Erik and fumbles with a mug in the cupboards, hands shaking and seizing as a bright red mug slips from his grasp and smashes against the white tiled floor. For a moment Peter sees it as blood, raining down from his neck and spattering against the rough, dusty ground. He can’t breath, his body begins to seize again and his head grows fuzzy. His vision blurs, he hears a voice and registers it as Erik’s as hand grab his body. 

The concerned tone of Erik’s voice turns sinister as it reaches Peter’s ears and turns deep, a guttural tone of a laugh as the hands that grabbed him grew rough, grew ( familiar ) and it’s En Sabah Nur that has a hold of him. 

The boy begins to struggle fiercely, eyes snapping open to reveal the disaster of a battlefield he and the others had faced Apocalypse and his horsemen on. The scenery is there so suddenly, the feeling of the hot, oozing blood spilling from the slit on his throat is so real. Hot tears stream down his cheeks and he feels terror, fear, and a tingling sense of exhaustion. 

He can’t move his body, yet he can still feel everything - it’s a replay of his nightmares once again and as soon as he realizes that, he’s awake. 

His eyes snap open so quickly that he has to shut them again in order to adjust them to how bright the room is. He groans, his body is aching and numb, his head is a mess of confusion and his heart is beating a mile a minute. He feels like he’s going to puke and he lurches himself up, leaning to his side to clear himself of yesterday’s dinner. 

“Aw-! Peter-!” A voice calls out, disgust edging their words. 

Peter’s eyes adjust to the bright white of the infirmary and he makes out hank’s frame standing on the other side of the room. He has an expression of complete disgust as he looks at the mess that Peter had created on the smooth floor. 

“Hank…?” Peter’s voice is hoarse, quiet, and it hurts to speak- his throat is scratchy yet it’s so loud inside his head and his brain begins to beat within his skull. He can feel the inevitable migraine beginning to form behind his skull. 

His body falls back onto the firm mattress he was laid on as Hank grumbles and moves around the room, going to clean the mess that was now being to stink, the odor permeating the room. It only takes him a few minutes to clean, spraying a strawberry scented spray to dispel the evil scents of Peter’s stomach. 

“Okay- Peter, how are you feeling? You gave everyone quite a scare.” Hank begins, moving beside the bed Peter was laying up. His eyes move from the visibly shaken boy to the IV he was hooked up, pumping the appropriate fluids into his system.

“I- what? What are you talking about?” Peter questions, confused by the entire setting and situation. He has no actual idea of what occurred to him other than another unplanned meeting with a tyrannical blue god. All he knows is that his head is killing him, his boxed up leg is still aching, and his body felt so ill.

“You fainted, Peter, don’t you remember?” Hank’s tone is concerned and his expression changes to worry, ‘That’s not good. There may be impaired memory and judgement.” He says more to himself than Peter as he moves to a laptop set up nearby. His hands move quickly on the keyboard as he begins furiously typing. 

Peter is beyond freaked out at this point, gaze on Hank with fear and confusion. “I fainted?” He doesn’t remember anything of the sort. All he remembers is red- the mug! He had fumbled in the kitchen with the mug, and then everything when dark and- 

His face pales. That is when he must have fainted. In front of his father, who hated him. 

The fear of knowing that he crumpled in front of Erik is what startles him the most, picking up his heart rate very quickly as his thoughts began to race. He fell apart in Erik a second time. Both were caused by the horrible terrors of his nightmares, he thought he handled them by not sleeping.

“Where’s my fa- Erik, where’s Erik?” He speaks out, frantic eyes moving to Hank. 

“Erik? He was the one that brought you here, he carried you in a few days ago.” Hank replies, attention still focused to the laptop, preoccupied with adding to Peter’s medical files at the school. 

Wait, ( days ) ago?

“How long have I been here?” His voice is growing in tone, franic and nervous, anxious. 

“Two- maybe three days ago? You’ve been resting for quite a long time. Your body was exhausted, it was like you were put into a coma- even though Erik insisted that he caught you before you could hit your head on anything.” Hank continues to ramble, only now just realizing how frantic Peter sounded. His attention turns from the laptop, now focused on Peter who was sitting up and shaking uncontrollably. He stands, moving over to Peter, “Hey, don’t worry. You should be well enough to leave here in a day or so. I just want to make sure that you won’t suffer from any major cognitive deficits or physical stressors.” He flashes an awkward toothy smile then turns to his laptop once again, folding it before picking it up as well as a pile of papers that sat nearby.

Peter tries to get a decent look at the papers, eyes running over the very confusing medical terms and images that were displayed on them. 

“I’ll be back- just stay here and get some rest. You need it.” Hank produces a red colored lollipop from the medical counter and hands to Peter before exiting the infirmary. Peter realizes how similar this scenario is to the other night, red lollipop in hand as he strolled the halls of the mansion after recovering from his outburst.

He holds candy in his palm, wrapper crinkling at every movement caused by creases in his hands, red staring at him through the clear wrapping and he begins to realize how much he hates the color. His hand closes around it in a fist, frustration boiling deep inside of him as he raises his fist and chucks the candy across the room. It bounces off of the wall and to the hard flooring with a crap, chipping and breaking into pieces that are kept within the wrapping. 

“Is now not a good time?” Says a voice from the doorway, Peter whips his head in surprise to see Charles in the doorway. His eyes are soft, expression is set and radiating understanding, and his lips are pressed into a thin smile as he looks to Peter. 

“Oh, Professor! I- I-” He stutters with his words and trying to form some kind of proper sentence, feeling immediately flustered that the professor had witnessed his childish outbursts. 

“Don’t worry Peter, it’s fine. Everyone gets angry at times.” Charles says as he wheels into the room, moving by the mess of a lollipop to stop beside the bed. “You are harboring a lot of emotions Peter, I can sense them boiling.”

Of course the professor has looking into his mind. Someone having telepathic powers and not using them to look into the minds of his broken students? How stupid could someone be. 

Charles’ calm expression shifts uncomfortably to that of heavy concern, weighing him down as he looks to his student, he was so very worried for the quickster. He had been receiving so many tense and negative emotions from Peter that it was hard to ignore them, to place them to the back of his mind so he wouldn’t need to sneak around Peter’s fears and causes of his many mixed emotions. 

“I’m… very concerned for you, Peter. The activity in your mind is, quite frankly, deafening.” His face portrays the concerning emotion that he has been feeling for Peter, “I’m ( very ) worried about you.”

Peter turns his face away from the professor, turning his attention to the bleak white walls of the infirmary. How was he supposed to respond to this? 

“I’m sorry professor, there’s just… so much going on.” His voice is small and he is very obviously avoiding properly answering the professor’s concern. 

Charles respects this, nods, clears his throat and looks to the floor. He does not want to intrude on Peter’s privacy, his mind and emotions were everything to him and Charles wasn’t going to violate that unless he absolutely needs to.  
He believes he has an idea behind Peter’s constant fear and avoidance just by small things that’s he’s picked up on mentally. He knows that Peter is haunted by night terrors, he knows this well enough when he wakes in the night to the screams of Peter, the vivid imagery of the night terrors as Charles lives through them with Peter. 

Apocalypse has had a lot of effects on everyone in the school, especially to those who were directly involved with it. 

He’s been able to see something else though, something inside of Peter that screams fear, shame, affection- all very heavily directed towards Erik. He had come across them accidentally, the emotions of Peters hitting Charles heavily, and he ended up slipping within them. 

Erik. 

Peter holds a lot of vaulted up emotions towards Erik. 

“Hey prof, I’m going to hit the hay. Hank says I need rest or whatever.” Peter’s voice clears Charles’ mind and a smile returns to Charles face as he nods once again. 

“Of course Peter, rest well. If you do need anything, please contact me.” He says this with extra added meaning, looking Peter directly in the eyes before turning in his chair and wheeling out of the room, the door left open slightly ajar by the professor. 

Peter lets out a breath he wasn’t aware he was holding, flopping back on the the bed with his staring at the illumination from the flickering lights above him. His body is beginning to feel content, finally settling once he was alone. He didn’t have to worry, all he had to do was let his mind and body rest. 

Ha, fat chance. 

The moment he knew the professor was far enough away, he was up and out of the bed, clunking around on the boot with a heavy sigh. He tries to run, moves haphazardly and crashes into two tables in the hallways of the mansion, shattering a glass vase that was sitting atop one before fumbling away. He was able to make it from the infirmary to a pretty far distance away. 

Now he just needed to get out of the area before someone caught him out and about, especially now since he’s shattered yet another item made from glass. The moment he regains his footing is the moment a certain tall figure comes from around the corner of the hallway. In his hands was a book with a tight leather binding, the book being shut once clear grey eyes settle on the mess in front of him.

“Um, don’t tell Charles?” Is all Peter could come up with, “Oh, don't’ tell Hank too. I’m not supposed to be up yet.”

Erik sighs, moving towards Peter and the mess of the vase. He sets his book on the table where the vase once sat and evaluates the situation. There was yet another mess of shattered glass and Peter was around it once again.

“You don’t plan to faint again, do you?” A smirk forms on his thin lips as his focus shifts to the floating broom with a metal pole along with a dustpan of metal. He cleans the mess with just a thought, the objects cleaning up the broken glass and moving it to a trash can somewhere nearby. 

“Wait, did you just crack a joke?” Peter’s voice is happy, a large smile forms on his face and he laughs, momentarily confusing Erik until he smiles and chuckles along with him. “I can’t believe Magneto just made a joke.” Peter says, expression joyful and entertained, voice jovial. 

“Yes, well don’t get used to it. I should be scolding you for being out of the infirmary.” He says, smirk still evident on his face as Peter grows pale and sheepish. 

“I feel fine, honestly I do.” He whines, eyes rolling out of slight frustration but mostly out of entertainment. 

“You really worried everyone. You must have been exhausted, have you been getting proper sleep recently?” Erik doesn’t follow along with Peter’s continuous banter and instead his voice grows stern and his expression holds concern and a cold kind of stern, something that’s edged with affection that neither Erik nor Peter could place. 

Peter’s heart begins to race again. He doesn’t want to talk about this, he doesn’t want to talk about this, he doesn’t want-

Erik’s hand is on his shoulder, Peter’s eyes shoot up to meet his and it all feels so ( wrong ) because this is what a father and son do, this a moment that Peter would cherish if it didn’t feel so ( wrong ).  
It’s so wrong because Erik doesn’t know, this can’t be a moment between them because Erik doesn’t know, he doesn’t care for Peter in the way that a father would care for a son because he ( doesn’t know ). 

This isn’t right, Peter made the decision to avoid sleeping so he could avoid his night terrors so he could avoid others being worried for him- it was not working out for him at all, here was the last person he wanted worrying for him. Erik was heavily concerned, Peter knows this.  
But to Erik, this must seem like a teacher and student moment where a professor is worrying for his student, it’s not the same. It’s not what Peter wants at all. 

Peter shrugs away from Erik’s hold on his shoulder and he takes a few staggering steps away. 

“Peter?” Erik’s voice is the same mushy mess of concern and Peter feels sick, he feels like he’s going to puke ( again ). How dare he be weak, how dare he worry his father who doesn’t even know him. He feels so much shame. 

He doesn’t feel the tears that are spilling from his eyes and down his cheeks, soaking his face. 

“Peter…” There it is again, the tone, the concern, everything that shouldn’t be there because it’s so ( wrong ). 

“No- stop, stop it!” Peter says through choking breaths and sobs, body shaking with his fits. 

Erik stands away, his arms are at his side and he doesn’t know what to do. He stands still, unmoving, unwavering, uknowning of how to interact with Peter. He’s concerned, yes, but how does he interact with Peter in this situation? 

He thinks of his darling Nina, when she would be so overwhelmed with emotion, sobbing hysterically at the smallest of things, things that were so touching. So he does what he used to do in order to help Nina. 

He takes ahold of Peter’s shoulders, pulls him close. He brushes a few strands of his hair away from his eyes, wipes his tears and wraps his arms around him in a tight embrace. Then he began to hum a lullaby that was Nina’s favorite. 

Peter is halted in his tracks, then begins to cry even harder in his father's embrace. 

Erik cries with him, over Nina, over his past life, over his current life, over Peter and the broken emotions that he knows Peter carries with him. 

This is a moment that Peter holds close to his heart, a moment that gives Peter confidence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so I came back to this after a while & I still love the father/son dynamic
> 
> here's some more angst, I'm not quite sure on how long this story will end up being but I plan on incorporating a few other plot points with erik & peter


End file.
